by Stine, R. L.
“Sorry,” I murmured. I didn’t really know what to say. I pictured Jeremy’s melted head.
“It’s impossible to run an old-fashioned kind of studio these days,” Dad said, frowning. “It’s taken everything we have to keep things going. If we can finish this film without any more horrible incidents…” His voice trailed off.
Finally, he raised his gaze to me. “I know acting in this film has meant a lot to you. But—”
“You know, my big death scene is coming up next.” I don’t know why I blurted that out. I guess it was just on my mind.
He squeezed my hand. “I’ll make sure you’re okay. You’ll have more security than the president.”
I pushed back against the soft leather. I tapped one hand against the chair arm. “Have you heard from Mom?”
He nodded. “She’s still in New York. Her meetings are going pretty well, I guess. She’ll be there till Saturday. Then she’ll come home a limp noodle. Exhausted. You know how she is after these trips.”
“She hates flying so much. She told me she takes enough Ambien to put her out for the whole flight. She’s so funny. All her hilarious expressions. She told me she sleeps like a bird.”
Dad chuckled. He pulled out his phone and squinted at it. Then he tucked it back in his pocket.
“Don’t worry about your birthday party,” he said. “None of this will affect your party. We’re still going all out. It really will be A Midsummer Night’s Dream. We’ll light up the trees. Have bands playing everywhere. A dance floor. People walking around in fabulous costumes. Like a dream.”
“Awesome,” I said. A little bit of the gloom seemed to lift off him as he described the party plans.
“We’ll open the whole studio. Let everyone go wherever they please. We’ll have a band in the plaza by the front gate. And a band in front of the commissary. You can choose the bands. Maybe we’ll open Soundstage B and let kids film whatever they want. You know. Birthday greetings or whatever.”
“Excellent. I really can’t wait, Dad. I’ve been thinking about my party nonstop.”
He raised tired eyes to me. “It will be good for the studio, too. A huge party will bring a lot of press and media attention. And it’ll remind people that the studio can be a magical place. Not a place for crime scene investigations and horrible deaths.”
“That’s true, and—”
“We’ll close off Mayhem Manor. We’ll leave the whole back lot dark. Your guests won’t have to go anywhere near it. In fact, we’ll put up security and make sure no one goes near.”
“Brilliant,” I said. I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “You’re the best.”
His phone buzzed. “Have to take this call.”
I jumped up and ran to my room to call Delia. I had to tell her about the party plans. She picked up on the third ring. I heard music in the background. “Where are you?”
“I’m on Sunset,” she said. “Just driving around.”
“Huh? By yourself? Why didn’t you invite me to go with you?”
A pause. “I don’t know. Just felt like being alone, I guess.”
“Delia, you’re still upset about me doing the stairway scene tomorrow?”
“You mean you’re not?”
“Nothing’s going to happen.”
Silence.
“I was just about to text Jake. See if he wants to hang out,” I said.
“Don’t waste a text,” she replied.
“What do you mean?”
“Before I left home, I checked Annalee’s Facebook page. Don’t go there. Unless you want to see a lot of photos of Jake on a couch with Annalee, and the two of them lip-locked in every shot. It looks like they’re trying to eat each other’s face.”
I groaned. “Annalee strikes again. Is there any boy she hasn’t had?”
Delia replied, but the phone cut out for a second.
After the disaster with the potion last night, I’d decided to finally tell Jake plain and simple how I feel about him. But now, he’d probably just laugh in my face. Or maybe run away. Whatever I said, it would be awk-ward.
I lose.
I lose and Annalee wins.
I suddenly felt like I could cry. Instead, I said, “Delia, I’ll be okay tomorrow. Really.”
“Tell that to Jeremy.”
“Shut up. I mean it. Shut up. There are security dudes every inch of the studio. And those stairs will be totally checked. I’ll be fine. I know it.”
But as I changed the subject and started to tell her about my birthday party, my sadness about Jake was replaced with a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. A heavy feeling of dread.
What if Delia was right? What if everything wasn’t going to be fine?
31
“THOSE STAIRS LOOK NASTY”
THE NEXT MORNING, DAD DROVE Delia and me to the studio. The sun was finally out, the winds had stopped, and it was a beautiful L.A. summer day.
But it was nearly silent in the car. Dad was thinking hard about something and kept his eyes on the road. In the backseat, Delia kept her hands clasped tightly together as if she were praying. I fiddled with the satellite radio, moving between the pop stations.
Dad always pretended to like the new music. But I could see that Ke$ha was annoying him. I clicked off the radio. “Dad, what are you thinking about?”
He smiled. “Actually, I’m thinking about A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Aren’t there a lot of fairies in that play? Fairies that play tricks on humans in the woods?”
“That’s the one,” Delia chimed in from the backseat. “We read it last year. It was supposed to be a comedy, but it wasn’t very funny.”
“We did a college production at USC,” Dad said. “I tried out for Puck, I remember. But I didn’t get it. I—”
“Whoa!” Delia and I both cried out.
“What did you say?” I demanded.
“I tried out for Puck. And—”
“Puck!” I cried. “Oh my god!” I turned back to Delia. She looked as excited and surprised as I was.
“Are we dumb or what? Why didn’t we remember?” I said. “Puck. Of course. From the play. How could we forget that name?”
Dad started talking about the USC production he was in, telling us some funny things that happened. But I didn’t listen. I was thinking about the Puck in the Shakespeare play, trying to remember what he does.
I was still thinking about it when we arrived at the studio. We said good-bye to Dad and made our way to Mayhem Manor. The studio was crowded and busy today. I think they were filming a big musical production number for Please Don’t.
Two security guards stood beside the makeup trailer. One of them nodded and said good morning as Delia and I entered. The other one studied us with eyes narrowed to slits and didn’t speak.
Another security guy, whose big belly poked out of his tight gray uniform shirt, watched us enter the dressing room. We pulled on our ’60s outfits. I adjusted the tight straight skirt.
We studied ourselves in the full-length wall mirror. Our clothes had to match the last day’s shooting exactly.
Delia didn’t speak. “Are you okay?” I asked.
She sniffed. “I don’t think so. I’m scared for you. Really.”
I shook my head. “Everything bad has already happened. It’s over. Think positive.”
She rolled her eyes. “You never change. Big smile in a thunderstorm.”
I laughed. “That sounds like one of my mom’s sayings.”
At the entrance to the old mansion, a lanky, red-haired security guard asked our names and checked us off on his clipboard. Inside, we were greeted by the usual cold, damp air. Voices echoed off the high walls, and we heard the rumble of equipment being moved around.
I hesitated. Delia took my arm and led me onto the set. Les Bachman was doing his angry number, arguing with a crew member, tossing his hands in the air and pacing back and forth in front of the guy.
“Look. There’s Annalee.” Delia pointed.
I he
ard Annalee’s teasing laugh. Then I saw her near the far wall in deep shadow. Who was standing behind her? I squinted to see.
It was Jake, and he had his arms around her from behind. He was holding her close to him. She turned her head and they kissed.
I had a sinking feeling. Like my whole body suddenly weighed two tons and I was about to drop to the floor. I turned away. My chest felt all fluttery.
“Seriously. Doesn’t Annalee ever quit?” Delia said, rolling her eyes.
I felt too upset to answer her.
I realized I still had the aging potion in my bag.
I could turn Annalee into a ninety-year-old woman.
The thought cheered me up a little.
I glanced around. I saw more guards standing tensely near the set. Dad wasn’t kidding around. He really didn’t want any more horrible incidents.
Les came running over to greet us. “Hope you have your running shoes on, kiddo.”
“I’m … a little nervous,” I stammered.
“That’s good,” Les said. “Get the adrenaline going. Don’t worry. We’ll do a couple of run-throughs. You know the drill.”
I nodded. “Darlene is desperate to get out of the house. I lead the way up the stairs. I run all the way up, looking terrified. The others follow me.”
“Good.” Les brushed a lint ball off the shoulder of my blouse. “In the original movie, your character fell through a hole in the stairs. But we’re not going to do that. We have much more horrifying things planned for you all in the rooms upstairs.”
That made me smile. “Awesome. I really don’t want to fall through any stairs.”
Les rubbed his stubbled jaw. “You wouldn’t have to do the fall anyway. We’d use a stunt person.” He snickered. “Can’t have you risking any broken bones, can we?”
He took out a soiled handkerchief and blew his nose. “The dust in here is killing me. I may sue your parents. Really.”
Before I could say anything, he spun away and strode back to the man he’d been arguing with. Shouting and gesturing, he picked up the argument where it had left off.
I turned to Delia. I felt a little more like myself. Les really did make me feel better about the scene.
We walked over to the catering table and had some papaya juice. I devoured a cranberry muffin. I was suddenly starving for some reason. Delia, the Cupcake Queen, said she didn’t have any appetite at all.
Actually, she’s a good friend, I thought. Someone who would pass up a muffin because she’s worried about me.
When Les called everyone to the set, I felt the tension sweep over me again. My stomach felt heavy. I wished I hadn’t had that muffin.
“Come on, people!” he shouted. “You’re not getting paid to loiter. That’s my job.”
We all followed Les to the front stairway. The stairs were carpeted, but the carpet was torn and stained, and the dark wood on some steps showed through ragged holes.
My throat tightened, and I suddenly felt dizzy as the stairway scene in the original film played through my mind. And once again, I saw Darlene drop into the open step. I saw her body slide down till her head caught on the stair frame. And heard the crack of her neck as it broke, killing her instantly.
Wow.
Killing her for real. That poor actress. What a hideous death she had.
Two crew members in baggy jeans and sleeveless t-shirts were halfway up the stairs, on their hands and knees, working to staple microphone cords in place. I guessed Les wanted to get the thud of the shoes as we ran up to the second floor.
Annalee stepped up beside Delia and me. She flashed me a smile. I recognized it. It was a victory smile. I win and you lose, Claire.
“Do you two have any lines?” she asked. “I don’t say anything. I just run up the stairs after Brian and Tony and you two.”
“It’s just a running scene,” I said. “I think we’re too scared to say anything. We just want to get upstairs.”
She nodded. “Well, don’t trip. Those stairs look nasty.”
Good advice. What would we do without her?
I turned and watched as the two crew guys finished up and came lumbering down the stairs. One of them stopped and said something to Les. Then he followed his partner to the side.
Les turned to us. “Okay. A run-through. Sorry to keep everyone waiting. You know the drill. You’re terrified. You’re desperate to get upstairs. Claire leads the way.”
He scratched his head. Gave his clipboard a quick glance. Then motioned to me. “You ready? Okay. Look frightened. Good. That’s good. Now run.”
I took a deep breath, locked a terrified expression on my face—and started toward the stairs.
32
ANOTHER DEATH IN THE HOUSE
LES BACHMAN STOPPED ME BEFORE I reached the steps. I was breathing hard, my shoulders heaving up and down, even though I hadn’t started to run.
“Whoa. Hold up,” he said. “Before we do this run-through, maybe I should explain it better.” He took my chin in his hand and tilted my head up toward the top of the stairway. “See? Up there?”
“Huh?” I stared up the stairs. What was Les showing me?
“That’s a camera up there,” Les said, finally letting go of my chin. “We’re filming from the top and the side of the stairs. So, Claire, dear, as you run, don’t look up. Don’t look at the camera.”
“But if I’m running up the stairs, I have to look up,” I insisted. “Don’t you look where you’re going when you go up stairs?”
“Just don’t look at the camera,” Les said. “Dart your eyes from side to side. You’re terrified, remember? And look behind you as you climb. You want to see what your friends are doing.”
I nodded. “Got it.”
“Same goes for the rest of you,” Les barked, turning to the two boys, Delia, and Annalee. “You four follow Claire. So keep your eyes on her. If you look in the camera, no one will believe you’re afraid. They’ll all think you’re in on the joke. Know what I’m saying?”
We all muttered yes.
“Can I ask a question?” My voice came out tiny and high.
Les nodded. “Shoot.”
I hesitated. “You told me before, but just tell me again.” I pointed toward the top. “The stair doesn’t give in, right? I don’t fall into an open step?”
Les shook his head from side to side. “Claire, Claire, Claire.” He chuckled. “I told you this ten minutes ago. Why are you so frightened? Would I allow one of my stars to fall into an open step? Of course I wouldn’t.”
I was breathing hard. I couldn’t help it. I felt right on the edge of total panic. No way to fight it back.
“Sorry,” I said to Les. “I saw the original film, and—”
“Here. Watch me,” Les said. He handed his clipboard to an assistant. “I’ll climb the stairs. I’ll show you they are perfectly safe. Sorry you don’t trust me.” He grumbled some words under his breath.
“No. I do. I do,” I protested. I stepped in front of the stairway to block his path. “You don’t have to climb the stairs. I can do it. I’m sorry. I mean, sorry for holding everyone up. Let’s do it.”
Les nodded. He took back his clipboard. “Places, everyone. Get your expressions on. You’re terrified, remember. You’ve got to show it as you follow Claire up the stairs.”
He groaned. “Come on, people. This is the easy shot. Wait till you see what I have planned for you upstairs in the next scene.”
I tensed my muscles. I struggled to stop trembling. My stomach rumbled.
I knew I was being crazy. The whole shot would take less than thirty seconds. Look scared. Run to the top. Don’t look in the camera.
Easy as banana cream pie, as my mom would say.
I turned and flashed Delia a thumbs-up.
She nodded and forced a smile. Beside her, Annalee pulled down the front of her shift so her boobs would show more. She ran her hands back through her silky black hair, then shook her hair out.
“Okay. Action,” Les said, bac
king away.
I tensed my arms at my sides. I balled my hands into tight fists. I took a few steps toward the stairway, then stopped.
I tried to hold them back. But when I turned to Les, tears filled my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I uttered. “I’m having so much trouble here.” I motioned toward the stairs. “I just have such a bad feeling.”
Suddenly, I saw Annalee brush past Delia. She trotted over to me, then moved toward the steps. “Watch me, Claire,” she said. “I’ll do it for you. Look. There’s nothing to it.”
“Annalee—” Les called.
“No. Wait—” I called.
But she wanted to show everyone how much better she was than me. She was already on the stairs. Already running full speed, one hand sliding up the slender banister. Her straight black hair bobbed behind her. Her shoes thudded the wooden steps hard.
She reached the top in a few seconds. Then she turned and gestured to me with a pleased smile. “See? Easy.”
She started down. One step. Two steps. Then she appeared to stumble.
Her hands flew up. Her mouth opened in a scream, a terrifying, shrill animal scream. I know I’ll hear it forever.
Annalee dropped fast.
The top of the step—it cracked and splintered. And she fell into it. Fell into the open step and dropped, screaming. Screaming a horrible animal wail.
The scream ended with a sick craaack. The sound of her neck snapping.
Frozen in horror, I stared up at Annalee’s head.
Only her head was visible now, caught on the stair edge. Her head with its green eyes bulging open. Her head. Only her head.
Her mouth, still wide open for its final scream, closed slowly. And then her head sank out of sight.
I covered my eyes with both hands and, my whole body shaking violently, I sank to my knees.
33
FINISH THE FILM?
DELIA AND I KNEW THAT CUPCAKES wouldn’t help this time. So we drove to The Cheesecake Factory on Beverly and ordered humongous wedges of chocolate-chip cheesecake piled high with whipped cream.
